


The Sum of All Truth

by LizAna



Category: Revolution (TV)
Genre: Gen, Revolution, Romance, Suspense, charloe - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-01-21
Updated: 2014-01-23
Packaged: 2018-01-09 12:03:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 8
Words: 11,853
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1145765
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LizAna/pseuds/LizAna
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Directly follows on from my first Revolution fanfic, "Hanging from a Trip Wire." Bass is recovering from his injuries, but when the arrival of a bounty hunter puts Charlie in danger, he'll stop at nothing to keep her safe. Their situation gets worse when Bass learns who is behind Charlie's status as a wanted criminal. As enemies close in, things between Bass and Charlie only get more complicated.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

 

**Previously on Revolution…**

_While scouting along the Texas/Plains Nation boarder, Bass falls through a roof. He's trapped and his arm is badly injured, but Charlie refuses to leave him, first hiding them from a Patriot patrol searching for them, and then killing a lone scout. Miles and Rachel find them, but getting Bass out of the mess isn't easy. He's lost a lot of blood, and time is running out for him. Rachel comes up with a solution, but even once Bass is free, things don't improve. They run across another Patriot patrol on the way out of town, and Bass uses the last of his failing energy to save Charlie from being stabbed in the back. After that, they hole up in a farmhouse, where Rachel realizes Bass might have already lost too much blood. Miles suggests a transfusion, but the conversation ends with the revelation that Miles is Charlie's biological father…_

* * *

Charlie clenched her fists, her mom's announcement going on replay over and over in her head… _Ben wasn't your biological father, Miles is_.

The next breath she took came too short, catching in the back of her throat. Her whole body tightened up with the need to get out. She couldn't be in the same room as her mother right now, who never seemed to give her anything but lies and half truths.

She went to take a step, but Bass caught her hand, halting her in her tracks.

"Charlie, it's okay. Don't freak out, all right?" His voice was still unsteady from the massive blood loss, but there was a note of strength underlining his words that she grabbed onto like a lifeline.

Bass tugged her hand, until she dropped down next to the couch he was lying on.

"It's okay," he repeated more quietly.

Actually, it was pretty damn far from okay, but her throat was tight, and her tongue felt too thick to form any words. Instead she took an uneven breath and dropped her forehead to rest against Bass' shoulder. His hand came up to cup the back of her head, and she dug her fingers into his biceps, swallowing down the urge to cry.

This was nuts. Like, totally insane. And the world must have really gone crazy if Sebastian Monroe was the one she turned to for comfort.

"Jesus Rachel, Charlie is my kid?" Miles sounded about as blown away as she felt. "And you didn't think that might be something you needed to tell me?"

"When was I supposed to tell you, Miles?" Rachel shot back.

"Well, not while Ben was alive, obviously. I get that. But he died, Rachel. And we've practically been living in each other's pockets for the past six months. At any point during all that time, you never once thought to say _hey Miles, FYI, Charlie is your daughter_."

"I've thought about it every single day since she was born," Rachel returned quietly. "But being sarcastic doesn't help anything right now."

Miles took a ragged breath. "I'm sorry. I'm just— It's a lot to get my head around in under two minutes. This morning I was an uncle, but now I've got to man up and be a father? Sorry if that makes my temper just a little short. "

"Just stop." Aggravation surged up within Charlie, but at least resentment was easier to deal with than tears. She raised her head to look at where her mom and Miles were facing off. "Just stop, okay? I can't hear this right now."

She looked back down at Bass, but he had his eyes closed again. There was something too still in the way he was lying there, and anxiety overtook everything else in her body.

"Bass." She shook his shoulder, but he didn't respond. "Bass!"

Still she got nothing, and she went up on her knees to catch his face in her palms, her heart stuttering against the inside of her chest. "Bass, wake up."

His skin had taken on a grayish tinge, and her blood turned to ice. "Mom!"

Her mom came over and pressed her hand into the side of Bass' neck.

Rachel's expression turned grim, and she turned to level an intent stare on her.

"Charlie, are you sure you want to give him your blood?"

"Well, I sure as hell don't want him to die."

Her mom nodded and then stood. "Miles, let's get him up to a bedroom. We need to hurry."

Rachel rushed over to grab the bag of medical equipment, while Miles got Bass up off the couch. They dragged him upstairs, putting him on the first bed they found.

"Charlie, lie next to him, on his left side," her mom instructed as she pulled out needles and a thin, clear plastic tube, among other things.

Charlie climbed up on the bed, a double big enough for two, but Bass took up more than his fair share of room. She laid down on her back, and turned her head to the side to stare at Bass while she waited for her mom to get on with things. She needed to keep watch over him, to make sure he was still breathing, still with them, until he got some of her blood into his system. And right now, she didn't want to think about why she was so desperate to make sure Sebastian Monroe stayed alive.

"Okay, Charlie, this will pinch a bit," he mom murmured.

She nodded, but didn't take her eyes off Bass. In the background, Miles stood with his arms crossed, his expression grim. The pounding of an aftershock battered her inside as reality fully sunk in. Miles was her _father_. The revelation was too upsetting and too wonderful all at the same time, but she forced the thoughts out of her mind.

In a matter of moments, Rachel had everything set up, and Charlie watched the dark red progression of blood leaving her arm and disappearing into Bass. She breathed a long sigh of relief, and then turned her head to stare up at the ceiling, brushing a hand over her face as a stray tear escaped. She was just exhausted, that was all. Staying awake and alert all night, while she worried about Bass being trapped had totally rail-roaded her. Once she had a few hours sleep, she'd be able to process everything more calmly.

"Okay." Rachel sighed as she straightened from the bed. "Miles, you want to help me sew up Bass' wrist? Otherwise, this blood transfusion will be pointless."

Miles nodded, his dark expression unchanging as he silently walked over to the bag and grabbed out some more supplies. Charlie swallowed down the tightness closing around her throat. Was Miles upset about the fact that her mom had kept the truth from him for all this time, or was he pissed to find out she was his kid? The lost little girl inside of her, the one who had once cried _everyone leaves me_ , was desperate for Miles to accept her as his own with open arms. But when it came to Miles, even after knowing him this past year, a lot of the time she still couldn't predict what he would do in any given situation.

Her mom and Miles hardly exchanged a word while they cut away Bass' bloody shirt, before cleaning his wounds and stitching him up. As soon as they were done, Miles stomped out of the room. Rachel stared pensively after him for a long moment, before turning to look down on her.

"I'll be back in a little while to disconnect you. Truthfully, Bass probably needs more than you can give him, but I don't want to hear any arguments from you when I say its time. There's no use putting your own life in danger as well."

She nodded in reply, still not feeling like she could say anything to her mom right now. Rachel sent her a smile, but it was the one she used when everything was turning to hell and she was trying to pretend like it wasn't. Charlie had seen that smile more than a few times recently, and every time, it pissed her off. When things were bad, what was the point of pretending it was all rainbows and puppies?

Her mom gently squeezed her arm, before leaving the room.

Charlie blew out a long breath, able to relax a little now that she was finally alone. Well, almost alone. An unconscious Sebastian Monroe didn't really count for company. Though her eyes were heavy, she focused her attention on watching the rhythmic rise and fall of Bass' chest. Maybe it was just her imagination, but his color seemed to be improving, at least.

She must have dozed, because what seemed like a minute later, her mom had returned.

"Okay, Charlie, time to wrap it up."

Rachel pulled the cannula out of her arm, holding up the tubing so the last of her blood drained into Bass, before taking out his end as well. She pressed small squares of material against both their elbow joints, before leaning over to check Bass' pulse.

After a moment, she nodded. "It's improved. Hopefully he got enough to get him through." She shifted back again and turned her attention to Charlie. "You'll be light headed when you get up, so just take a minute, make sure you don't fall flat on your face. There's another bedroom across the hall, Miles and I will be taking turns keeping watch. You need to get a full night's sleep, okay?"

The stubborn side of her wanted to argue that she could take a watch, but knowing Miles and her mom, they wouldn't hear a word of it.

"Okay, I'll take the bed across the hall." She didn't sound the least bit grateful, but after everything that had happened, she just didn't have the energy to play nice.

Her mom stared at her for a moment, obviously wanting to say something. Instead, she shook her head and started out of the room. "Goodnight, Charlie."

Charlie sighed and rubbed her eyes, feeling like the bad guy for some stupid reason. It wasn't her fault that her mom kept secrets and dealt in half-truths. The woman she'd found when she'd gone searching for Danny hadn't been anything like the mother she remembered walking away from her. But maybe she'd never really known her mother at all. She'd only been a dumb kid, and apparently her mom had worked for some top secret government organization that dealt in weapons. The more she learned of her family, the more she realized she'd really had no clue.

Her eyes ached, and she rubbed them harder, frustration burning through her sadness. She just needed a minute. One quiet minute, and then she'd get up and go collapse in the bed across the hall, and maybe things wouldn't look so dismal in the morning.

 


	2. Chapter 2

Charlie squeezed her eyes tighter as sunlight slanted orange across her closed eyelids. She rubbed a hand over her face, neck aching at the bad angle she had her head on, and the lumpy pillow beneath the side of her face.

Except then she realized it wasn't a pillow, but a shoulder, warm and solid against her cheek. She cracked her eyes open against the glaring sun as too many sensations rushed at her. Her eyes focused on her hand, which was resting in the middle of Bass' chest. His free arm was wrapped around her back, his palm resting on her hip, and one of her legs was hooked over his left thigh.

So apparently she hadn't gotten up and gone across the hall to find her own bed, and at some point snuggled up to Bass like no one's business. It should have freaked her out, she should have been scrambling to get out of his arms and off the bed, but instead, her eyes drooped closed again, and she could have easily drifted back to sleep for another few hours. Waking up in a warm embrace was gratifying in a way she'd never experienced before. _Could get used to this…_

Bass shifted against her, his hand tightening on her hip, and that was enough to shoot her up with a good dose of reality. Oh god, was she really lying there, cuddling with Sebastian Monroe? She rolled away from him and sat up on the edge of the bed, heart pounding erratically. She pushed her hair out of her face and glanced over her shoulder at him. He mumbled something in his sleep, but otherwise didn't stir. Breathing a low sigh of relief at avoiding an awkward confrontation, she pushed to her feet and left the room, making her way downstairs. Miles was sleeping on the couch in the front room, and through the widows, she caught a glimpse of her mom standing out on the porch.

Covering a yawn with her hand, Charlie walked out through the kitchen, to the back porch and across the yard. Up against the side of the dilapidated barn were two barrels of rain water, one full and the other half empty. She took a moment to splash some water on her face and wash away the last foggy tendrils of sleep.

"Hey, kiddo, how'd you sleep?"

She wiped her forearm over the water dripping down her face as she turned to Miles. Heat bloomed in her chest and spread upward.

"Fine." Obviously he didn't know _where_ she'd slept, otherwise this conversation probably would have ended with him shoving his fist in Bass' face, unconscious or not. "Did you get much sleep?"

He shrugged one shoulder and brushed by her to lean over the barrel. "A little."

He sluiced some water through his hair and over his face, before using his shirt to wipe off. "Listen, you think you can hold down the fort for a few hours? We'll probably have to stay here at least another forty eight hours if we want to make sure Bass is okay, so we'll need some supplies. Obviously your mom and I need to talk a few things out, so—"

"Of course, Uncle Miles." She snapped her mouth shut after the words came out automatically, feeling kind of dumb for saying them.

Miles shot her one of his half-smiles that didn't quite reach his eyes. "Not anymore."

"I'm sorry."

"Hey, you're not the one who needs to apologize, here." Miles shook his head, staring off into the distance. "I know this changes things, and I'm sure there's things you expect of me, Charlie, but I'm gonna need a minute—"

She reached out to close her hand around his forearm. "I don't expect anything from you, Miles. Truthfully, I'm pretty confused about what this means for us myself. So I get that you need time to wrap your head around it."

He nodded, his expression relaxing a little. "Glad we're on the same page… kind of."

They started back towards the house, and Charlie shoved her hands into her pockets as she walked.

"You know, it does help me make sense of some things. My dad and I— Ben, we never saw eye to eye. It was like he just didn't get me at all. We used to fight all the time, couldn't agree on anything. But you and I?" She paused and shook her head. "Well, we're just like two peas in a pod, right?"

Miles sent her a sideways glance. "Yeah, stubborn as all hell, and a pain in the ass when we don't get our way."

She laughed, though the sound was strained. Miles had become a father figure to her since she'd found him in Chicago, there was no denying that. She'd just never expected to find out he was literally her father. It was going to take some getting used to, and right now, things felt kind of awkward between them, as much as she hated that.

They walked into the kitchen and found Rachel standing at the table, securing the straps on her pack. She looked tired, dark smudges under her eyes. But as always, she sent them a smile, the let's-pretend-we're-all-good one that Charlie was getting sick of seeing.

"Are you ready to go, Miles?" Rachel asked, swinging her bag onto her back.

"Just let me grab my crap." Miles turned to Charlie and closed his hand around her shoulder for a quick moment. "We'll be back in a few hours, kid. You and Bass have had enough excitement for one week, so no more drama, okay?"

This time her grin was easy and genuine. "I can only try to keep us out of trouble, but I'm not promising anything."

Miles sent her a stern look, before brushing by Rachel and heading to the front room. She and her mom followed him, and then Charlie went out to the porch to wave them off as they walked away from the house.

Once they were out of sight, she went inside to find her own pack and scrounge up some food. A crust of dry bread was all she had left, and she ate it while she gave herself a tour of the house, checking all the nooks and corners. When she'd familiarized herself with the layout, she gathered up her crossbow and went back through the kitchen. Bass would need something substantial to eat when he woke up, and she needed something to keep herself occupied.

An hour later, she'd managed to shoot a duck, but there wasn't much else to hunt. Obviously the area had been hunted nearly clean by the locals and Patriot soldiers camping closer to the town.

As she walked along the length of the barn, a low string of curses in a familiar voice snagged her attention, and she rounded the end of the building to find Bass leaning over the barrel of water. He hadn't put a shirt on, and held a razor in his good hand, head tilted as he looked into a small, square mirror hanging from a nail. He'd nicked his jaw, and a small rivulet of blood dripped down his neck.

"Should you really be on your feet?" She walked past him to hang the duck on a hook, set down her crossbow, and then stepped closer to the barrel to wash her hands.

"I woke up a while ago to an empty house. For a minute there, I wondered if you'd all gone off and left me for dead." He shot her a quick, hard look before returning his attention to the mirror. "And did you really think I'd stay in bed? I needed some fresh air, and I needed to shave. These whiskers itch like crazy. Obviously I don't need to disguise my face anymore, since everyone thinks I was executed."

"You thought a moustache and a few whiskers were a disguise?"

He sent her a sideways glare that said _shut up_ loud and clear.

She bit her lip to stop herself from grinning. "I wouldn't have gone out hunting if I'd known you were going to wake up so soon. Miles and my mom have gone for supplies." No mention of their sleeping arrangement. Cool relief ran through her. Maybe he didn't have a clue they'd spent half the night pressed up against one another. It would certainly make it easier for her to pretend like it hadn't happened if he didn't know about it. "And I'm so glad I gave you half my blood so you could slice your own neck open."

He seemed to freeze, before turning to focus on her. " _You_ gave me your blood, not Miles?"

His intent blue gaze made her stomach do a slow flip. "Like my mom said, Miles couldn't do it, so what else were we going to do?"

An unreadable expression crossed his face.

"Then I owe you my thanks, and my life. For a second time." His intense gaze searched her face, causing heat to trickle through her. "You really are making a habit of saving me, aren't you?"

His concentrated regard made that weird, hyper-aware feeling overtake her, just like it had in the factory. She shrugged to cover her discomfit. "Its no big deal, next week you'll probably screw me over, and then I'll be back to wanting to kill you."

He reached out to grab her arm, pulling her in a little closer. "I would never betray you, Charlie; you have my word on that."

Her heart skipped a rushed beat, his low vow echoing all the way to her soul. She swallowed, returning his silent stare for a moment. Words tumbled through her mind, about not trusting anything Sebastian Monroe said, and definitely not taking his word at face value. But something in the way he watched her made her believe he absolutely meant what he'd said.

She reached up to touch his jaw, where he'd cut himself. "You need to be a little more careful."

His expression turned rueful. "Apparently shaving left-handed is next to impossible, and my hold isn't exactly steady."

"You just don't know when to ask for help, do you?" She took the razor out of his hand.

"It's been a long time since I trusted anyone enough to know I could ask."

How had he lived like that for so long? Always having to watch his back, never knowing who might try to kill him. It didn't forgive anything he'd done, but for the first time, she saw Miles' betrayal of him in a different light.

She stepped closer to him, touching her fingers to his chin and urging him to tilt his head. She concentrated on carefully sliding the sharp razor over his skin, so she didn't cut him again. However, she knew he was staring at her the whole time, she felt the forceful regard rippling all the way to her toes.

By the time she'd finished, her own hands weren't so steady any longer. She blew out a quiet, uneven breath as she set the razor aside and picked up the threadbare towel hanging over the edge of the barrel. She turned back to Bass, though he hadn't moved a muscle. As she slowly wiped the towel over his face to take away the excess lather, his jaw clenched beneath her hand, making her pause.

"Charlie—" His low voice had a rumble to it she'd never heard before, but it set off a burst of butterflies in her stomach.

The crunch of footsteps snagged her attention and she dropped the towel as she turned away from Bass, getting her hands on her crossbow and swinging it around to aim in the direction of the noise, steadily getting closer to them.

 


	3. Chapter 3

Bass grabbed his sword from where he'd left it next to the barn wall. It felt a little awkward using his left hand as his main sword-arm, but it was a damn side better than being unarmed.

Charlie had backed up against the barn wall and was slipping closer to the corner. As she got there, a woman appeared, leading with a semi-automatic handgun. Charlie used her crossbow to knock the gun out of the woman's hand, before swinging back the other way to elbow her in the face.

The woman stumbled back a step, but then drew a knife, bringing it up to hold Charlie off. The woman wore a sleeveless shirt, weapons sheathed along a thick belt and had tattoos up and down her arms. Her dirty blonde hair was hacked into a short crop, and a scar ran down the left side of her face. A bounty hunter, if he had to guess. Bass tightened his grip on his sword and stepped closer to Charlie. If he tried to protect her, she'd only get pissed with him, plus with his right hand out of commission and the fact he wasn't operating at full speed, he'd only put both of them in danger. He'd have to trust that his tough girl could handle herself, and back her up if she needed it.

"Charlotte Matheson, I've been looking for you." The woman sent Charlie a dark grin, before pulling a pair of flex-cuffs off her belt and throwing them at Charlie's feet. "Make it easy on yourself and put these on. My ride will be here in a minute."

Charlie glanced down at the flex-cuffs, before looking back at the woman.

"Sorry, I'm not going anywhere."

Bass saw Charlie's shoulders tighten, a sure give that she was about to fire the crossbow. The woman must have seen it as well, because she dropped into a roll, and the arrow missed its mark. Charlie abandoned her crossbow and pulled out a knife as the woman came up into a crouch. She went at Charlie with her own knife, and while they were distracted, Bass went for the gun. He scooped it up from the ground and spun back to line up a target.

The woman and Charlie were struggling against one another, too close for him to shoot the bounty hunter without risking Charlie as well, especially considering he had to shoot with his left hand.

"Come on, come on," he muttered, tension making his neck muscles ache, while his heart thumped against the inside of his chest.

Charlie head-butted the woman, making her stumble back a step and Bass didn't hesitate. He squeezed of a round, and the bullet found its mark in the woman's head. She collapsed to the ground in a heap, as Bass lowered the gun.

Charlie bent over and braced her hands on her knees, breathing heavily.

"Charlie, you okay?" He flicked the safety on and shoved the gun into his pants, before stepping closer to her.

"Yeah, I'm okay." She straightened, wiping the back of her hand across her mouth, smearing a trickle of blood.

Bass grabbed the damp towel from the ground, but when he tried to touch it to her face, she ducked out of the way and took it from him.

He sighed and shook his head, before walking over to strip the woman of her weapons. In one of her pockets, he found a folded piece of paper, and knew what it was, even as he flicked it open.

"Charlie?"

He glanced up at her, and then handed the wanted poster over as she stopped in front of him.

"What the hell?" She muttered. She held up the piece of paper, distress in her gaze, though it was edged with a good dose of anger. "What does the US government want with _me_?"

She ripped the paper in half, and then half again, tearing until it turned into confetti.

"I don't know." He closed his hand over her shoulder as she let the paper flutter to the ground. "But we'll figure it out. Your mom, Miles and me, we're not going to let anything happen to you, got that?"

She glanced up at him, and he could see she didn't fully believe him. "Right."

Shrugging out of his grip, she bent to retrieve her crossbow.

Bass dragged a hand through his hair and glanced back at the dead woman. They'd need to do something about getting rid of the body, but he couldn't do it one handed, and Charlie obviously wasn't in the right frame of mind to be digging graves right now.

He went to the barrel and shrugged into the shirt he'd brought out with him, but paused as a jangle sounded somewhere behind him. He turned, as the sound of horses and men came from somewhere in the woods beyond the house.

The bounty hunter's words about her _ride being here in a minute_ steamrolled him, and he spun to where Charlie was stalking back toward the house. He ran to catch up with her, injured arm and shoulder throbbing all the way.

"Charlie, we've got company, probably Patriots or more bounty hunters," he said as they reached the porch.

She glanced over her shoulder. "How many?"

He stepped forward to open the back door. "I don't know. We have to run."

She shook her head. "You're not in any condition to be running anywhere, Bass. Come on."

He followed her to the front of the house, and she paused halfway along the hallway. Pressing on a panel low in the wall, a concealed door swung outward to reveal a short, narrow cupboard under the stairs.

"Harry Potter, eat your heart out," he muttered. There was a box of junk shoved in the far corner, but otherwise it was empty. "How did you know about this?"

She shrugged one shoulder. "I cased the joint this morning after Miles and my mom left. Get in, you have to hide."

A thread of cynical humor wove through him. How the mighty had fallen. General Sebastian Monroe was about to hide in a pitiful excuse for a cupboard. Once, he would have never even considered hiding from a fight, but it seemed he was willing to do a lot for Charlie.

Bass ducked down and went into the cupboard, turning to sit with his back to the wall. Charlie nodded, before stepping back, but he leaned forward and grabbed her wrist before she could get very far.

"What do you think you're doing?"

She tugged at her wrist. "I'm going to take care of whoever's out there. They're not going to be very happy when they find that dead bounty hunter."

A gush of incredulous anger rode up within him. "No, they won't be. So there's no way you're going out there to fight while I hide in this hole."

She glared right back at him. "Yeah, I am. Besides, there's not enough room for both of us."

He tightened his hold around her wrist. "I'm not staying in here unless you hide with me. Miles would have my head if I let you put yourself in danger."

"Monroe—"

"I'm serious, Charlie. If you don't want me out there fighting, then get your ass in this cupboard."

She sighed and glanced back over her shoulder. A shout sounded from the backyard, the body had been discovered.

"Fine," she muttered darkly.

Bass sat back, pulling Charlie with him. She'd been right, there really wasn't room for two people in the cupboard, and she had to sling a leg over his as she swung the door shut. She braced a knee on either side of his thighs, and then reached out to balance herself with a hand against the wall above his head.

A crash echoed from the back of the house, and then boots thumped over the floors. Charlie adjusted her position, and he could tell she was uncomfortable, kneeling awkwardly above him.

"Charlie, who knows how long we're going to be in here," he whispered. "You might as well get comfortable."

In the muted light coming in around the door, she stared at him for a long moment, her lips pressed into a thin line. For a second, he thought she was going to keep with her usual stubborn streak and refuse, but then she sighed and slowly lowered herself to sit on his lap.

Bass clenched his fist against the floor to stop himself from clamping his hand onto her hips like he wanted to. The girl was starting to tie him up in knots. Out in the yard, when she'd shaved him, he'd known she wasn't trying anything on with him, but it hadn't stopped his blood from going into a slow boil.

There were a million reasons why he couldn't have her, beginning with the age gap and ending with Miles being her father. But there was no denying the spark between them; one that only seemed to grow stronger the more time they spent together.

Charlie moved a little, but then seemed to freeze. "Monroe, that better not be what I think it is, otherwise I'm going to get my knife out—"

"It's just my gun, Charlie, I swear." He swallowed down the grin, knowing it would only piss her off more.

She opened her mouth, probably to give him a piece of her mind, but boot steps thumped past their cupboard, and she closed her lips again, sending him an unimpressed glare.

He glanced away from her, turning his attention to listen as the house was searched. Six men, if he had to guess. And there could be more outside. Time crawled by, but no one even paused outside their hidey-hole. After a while, everything went quiet. By then, Charlie had seemingly gotten used to their close contact, and fully relaxed into him. Bastard that he was, he'd been enjoying the slight weight of her on top of him way too much.

"Do you think they're gone?" She asked once the house had fallen silent.

"Hopefully, but we'll give it a little while before we climb out, to be sure."

Just to be on the safe side… not because he wanted to spend the rest of the day in here, with Charlie all over him.

 


	4. Chapter 4

Charlie wasn't sure when she'd stopped holding herself so rigidly. At first it had been too much, literally sitting on top of Bass, hyper-aware of all the places they touched. But he hadn't made a move to put his hands on her, and had seemingly been paying more attention to the noises crashing through the house than he had of her.

Now, everything had fallen quiet, and she had nothing to distract her from their close proximity.

"Miles and my mom should be back soon," she said, just to make conversation.

Bass nodded, his lips quirking into a short smile, his blue gaze knowing, as though he was fully aware of what she was doing. He shifted beneath her, bringing her attention right back around to their intimate position.

"How's your arm? Are you feeling okay?" He shouldn't have been hiding out in a closet, putting up with her sitting on him only twenty four hours after nearly dying from bleeding out.

"I'm fine, Charlie. A little tired, but I'm okay."

Like he'd tell her if he wasn't.

"Maybe we could move, change positions or something."

He gave a quiet laugh. "What are we going to do? Have me sit on top of you? I outweigh you by a hundred pounds."

She started to move back. "Seriously, you can't be comfortable—"

His hand landed in the middle of her lower back, stopping her from going anywhere. "It's fine, Charlie, you hardly weigh anything, and if we try rearranging ourselves, all we'll end up doing is jostling my arm, and wearing me out."

She blew out a short breath, noting that Bass hadn't moved his hand from where it had landed just above her butt. "I can't just sit here—"

"So I noticed," he returned dryly. "Just give it a few more minutes, and then we'll climb out."

She nodded, tense all over again, just like she'd been when they'd first shut themselves in.

"Charlie, you're killing me here, just relax. What exactly do you think is going to happen?"

She didn't know. Probably nothing. But there was something almost tangible growing between her and Bass. She couldn't ignore it any longer, couldn't pretend like she didn't know what the heated awareness was. It was wrong. He was wrong for her. It shouldn't, _couldn't_ happen between them. Except her heart pounded whenever he got too close, and her chest ached as she let the forbidden idea of kissing him flood through her mind.

Heat flashed through her in wake of the shocking notion. Never mind trusting Sebastian Monroe, apparently it was her own control she needed to be concerned about. She closed her eyes and took a long, unsteady breath.

"Charlie… Charlotte." Bass' low murmur vibrated all the way down her spine.

She opened her eyes to look at him in the dim light, as his hand smoothed upward along the middle of her back, slowly but surly pressing her closer to his chest.

His hand clamped around the back of her neck, fingers rough against her sensitive skin, and suddenly she couldn't breathe. His mouth was right there, his heated blue gaze burning into her, making her want things she had no words for.

Somehow, her hands landed on his shoulders, and his muscles were hard and warm beneath her palms.

Except then his gaze cut away from her, and she could see his attention shifting.

"Can you smell that?" A distant note of apprehension in his tone cleared her mind better than a bucket of ice dumped over her head.

She inhaled, an acrid scent burning her sinuses.

"Its smoke." Bass set her back from him. "Charlie, we've got to get out of here."

She leaned to the side and shoved at the panel, forcing the door to pop open. A cloud of thick black smoke rolled into the small space, and the next breath she took scraped her throat raw, until she started coughing.

Charlie crawled out of the cupboard, Bass on her heels. Flames flickered up the walls, catching on furniture, while the smoke pressed in lower, leaving no air to breathe.

"Charlie, stay down." Bass yelled, his hand on her back forcing her into a crawl. They made it to the front door, but when she went to push it open, it wouldn't budge. She tried again, throwing her whole body at it in desperation, but got nothing except a sore shoulder.

"Bass, it won't open." Her voice had climbed higher with panic, but who could stay calm at the prospect of getting burned alive?

"They probably blocked it up, come on, let's try the back." Bass coughed and latched a hand onto her arm, dragging her back into the dark hallway.

The inferno blazed higher now, flames licking along the ceiling, while a muted roar harmonized discordantly with the crackle of dry, burning wood. They made it through the kitchen, and Bass practically fell through the backdoor ahead of her.

They stumbled down the steps, gasping at the cool, clean air. Charlie fell to her hands and knees in the middle of the yard, Bass beside her, trying to stem a fit of coughing.

Someone grabbed a handful of her hair and wrenched her backwards. She cried out in anger, looking up to see a Patriot leaning over her.

"Under orders from Commander Allenford, Charlotte Matheson, you are under arrest—"

A figure loomed up beside her, and the Patriot soldier went down, Bass on top of him. But the struggle didn't last long, as two other soldiers came forward and pulled Bass off, forcing him down to his knees, before securing his hands behind his back.

Charlie reached for her knife with a slow movement, hoping no one would pay her any attention while they were all focused on Bass. Except there were seven other patriot soldiers surrounding them, all armed to the teeth, and if she knifed their leader, she wouldn't get to do any more damage before they took her out.

The commanding soldier had pushed himself to his feet. He wiped the back of his hand across the blood dripping from his nose, before walking over and then backhanding Bass into the dust.

"No—" she started toward him, but one of the soldiers grabbed her. She turned on the Patriot, leading with her knife, but he caught her wrist, twisting until pain shot down her arm and she released her grip on the handle.

"Charlie," Bass coughed, and pushed himself up. "Don't fight them, there's too many, you'll only get hurt."

The soldier who'd taken her knife shoved her down next to Bass, before another cuffed her wrists. She met Bass' gaze, and saw the lethal, furious light burning in his eyes. No matter how angry he got, she couldn't see how they were going to get out of this in one piece.

 


	5. Chapter 5

Bass spat blood into the dirt and then forced himself up to his knees next to Charlie. None of the soldiers surrounding them looked much older than their mid-twenties, and they all had an unhinged, vacant gleam in their eyes. Yeah, he knew a reprogramming when he saw one. Even when he and Miles had been back in the Marines, fighting for the good old US of A, the government had been experimenting with that kind of thing, and it had never turned out well. The only thing those reprogrammed soldiers had been good for was slaughter without mercy. And Charlie had thought him a soulless killer. He was a fluffy kitten compared to these guys.

"Charlotte Matheson, you are under arrest by order of Commander Allenford of the United States government." The commanding officer announced, before motioning to one of the nearby soldiers. "Put her on the wagon."

One of the Patriots hauled Charlie to her feet, and Bass scrambled up. No way was he letting Charlie out of his sight, not with these Robocop bastards. But he didn't get far, as another soldier clamped a hand on his shoulder.

He jerked against the hold, but the son of a bitch wouldn't let him go. "If you're taking her, then you get me as well. We're a two for one deal."

The commanding solider glanced at him. "And who might you be?"

"My name's George Clooney."

Charlie glanced back at him, and he sent her a quick smile. None of these kids were old enough to remember pre-blackout.

"We've got orders to retrieve the girl. You, we don't need." The soldier turned his back and went to climb up on his horse.

Bass twisted out from underneath the grip of the soldier holding him and then rammed his elbow into the guy's stomach. The next one who went for him got head-butted, and he was about to kick a third in the teeth when a shot rang out.

He flinched and paused, swinging around to look at Charlie. She'd been handcuffed in the front of a supply wagon and was tugging against the chains. The man sitting behind the reins slapped her, and pure, white-hot rage blazed through Bass.

The commanding soldier walked his horse forward a few steps to loom over him. "We don't need you, Mr. Clooney, but if you keep that up, I will shoot you before I leave here."

"You're not taking her—"

The soldier closest to him smashed the butt of his rifle into the side of Bass' head. He went down, getting up close and personal with the dirt again, as Charlie started yelling his name. But he couldn't lift his head, and as he tried to roll over, a boot coming in his direction was the last thing he saw.

* * *

"Bass. _Bass_. Wake up, godamn it."

A deluge of water splashed over his face and Bass rolled, coughing at the extremely unpleasant sensation of water up his nose. He forced his eyes opened, but it took a moment for the blurry shapes in front of him to come into focus.

"There you go, buddy. Keep those eyes open."

"Miles." His voice came out hoarse, no doubt due to the smoke inhalation. And just like that, everything came back to him and his brain helped his sluggish body out by shooting him up with a dose of pure adrenaline. "Where's Charlie?"

He sat up, but swayed, before Miles caught his shoulder. "Not here, I thought you could tell us. What the hell happened?"

His head throbbed, and he rubbed his temple where the butt of the rifle had nailed him. "They took her."

Miles' grip on his shoulder tightened. "Who took her?"

Rachel appeared from the other side of the barn.

"I couldn't find her, Miles," she called as she hurried closer.

"Bass, who took her?" Miles demanded, a hint of panic in his voice.

"Some bounty hunter turned up holding a wanted poster with Charlie's name on it, and then before we knew it, the place was crawling with Patriots. We hid, but the bastards smoked us out. That's when they took Charlie and clocked me out cold."

Fury started burning away the last few cobwebs dragging at his mind. They'd hit her, chained her up, and carted her off to god knew where. Every single one of those sons of bitches were going to pay in blood once he caught up with them.

"Why do the Patriots want Charlie?" Rachel crossed her arms, her posture tight with worry.

"Right now, it doesn't matter why they want her; the fact is they got her." Miles helped Bass to his feet. "How long a head start do you think they've got, Bass?"

He shook his head, frustrated at the fatigue riding him. First he'd almost bled out, and twenty four hours later he'd taken one hell of a beating. Much more of this and Charlie would have her wish from all those months ago when she'd wanted him dead.

"I don't know how long I was out for. Ten minutes or two hours, take your pick." He grabbed a handful of Miles' shirt at the shoulder. "Miles, these weren't normal, run-of-the-mill Patriot soldiers. Not one of them would have been over twenty-five, and I'm pretty sure they'd been reprogrammed. Like, US government experimental reprogramming."

Miles swore under his breath.

"What are you talking about?" Rachel asked.

"When Bass and I were in the Marines, the government was experimenting with reconditioning to make better soldiers. Soldiers who would make decisions without emotion weighing into the equation, soldiers who wouldn't suffer from things like PTSD no matter what they experienced on the battlefront. It worked a little too well, but in not the way the government expected. Those men, Rachel…" Miles ran a hand through his hair. "They were like rabid dogs on a leash, and if they got off—"

"And these are the men who've got Charlie?" Rachel braced a hand against her mouth, expression distressed.

Miles wrapped an arm around her shoulder and pulled her closer for a moment. "We'll get her back, Rachel, I promise. If the government wants her, then those soldiers won't hurt her, they'll follow orders like robots."

Rachel pulled away from him, and crossed her arms. "Don't make me promises you've got no way of keeping, Miles."

She turned away from him and walked over to stand near the barn.

Bass glanced from Rachel, to the frustrated, pained expression on Miles' face. "So I'm guessing all that alone time you and Rachel had this morning didn't help you get anything sorted out."

Miles sent him a dark look. "Not now, Bass. Come on, the sooner we catch up with Charlie, the better."

 


	6. Chapter 6

**The Plains Nation, three days later**

Bass flexed his injured hand, trying to work out the tingling. It was healing, slowly, and despite the last few days of hard travel, he felt stronger, though still not up to full speed. Rachel had told him he was probably going to have permanent nerve damage, and the best way to counteract it was to rehab his hand. Like what, he was going to check himself into some fancy hospital and lounge around watching daytime soaps in between seeing some expensive physiotherapy doctor?

He'd figured the best he could do was use it, and it helped distracted him from what might be happening to Charlie, so he did reps, flexing his hand, clenching his fingers, and gripping a ragged tennis ball he'd found as they'd passed through a town the day before. Still, he couldn't keep Charlie out of his thoughts for long, her and that torturous stretch of time they'd spent hiding in that cupboard. And if he didn't happen to think about it half a million times a day, at night what little sleep he could get was disturb by dreams that ended in a very different way to reality.

Bass knew he was a lot of things - most of them not good - but was he really going to be _that guy_ , panting after a girl half his age? The kicker being that she was Miles' kid. Hell, if he had a daughter, he wouldn't have let her within a hundred feet of Miles if he knew his buddy had a thing for her. If he was truly the brother to Miles he claimed to be, then he'd take a step back, and leave Charlie be. Except how could he, when she made him feel things he hadn't in years, made him think that maybe, just maybe, he could find salvation after all.

He'd been hoping they'd catch up to Charlie and the Patriots who'd taken her within a couple of hours, but getting across the boarder had been harder than they'd anticipated, and it had delayed them more than a full day. Once they'd made it into the Plains Nation, they'd found themselves some horses and ridden hard to catch up.

The Patriot soldiers had brought Charlie to a large town, surrounded by a massive razor wire fence, with sentries marching up and down the perimeter. If they'd thought Willoughby heavily guarded, then this set up made Rachel's home town look like amateur hour.

"What the hell is this place?" Miles muttered. They were a little way down the road, standing to the side and watching what small amount of traffic was coming and going from the town gates. Pretty much everyone passing through had on a Patriot uniform, and if they weren't wearing a uniform, then they were accompanied by someone who was.

"Some sort of Patriot strong hold, by the looks of it," Bass replied. "The bigger question is, how are we going to get inside?"

"Well, for a start, I think we need to get our hands on a uniform," Miles said at the same time the idea occurred to Bass.

"We'll only need one. You could tie my wrists, walk me through the gate and take me to the lock up."

Miles nodded thoughtfully. "That's assuming they've got Charlie in the town lockup."

Bass shrugged. "If she's not there, we'll reassess. But my guess is, they're not going to view her as a high risk prisoner."

"What can I do?" Rachel put in.

Miles turned to look at her, a closed expression on his face. "You're going to head back down to that abandoned roadhouse we saw a few miles back and wait for us."

She crossed her arms, sending him a glare. "I'm not going to sit around and do nothing. That's my daughter in there."

"I know, Rachel." Miles returned quietly. "Because she's my kid too. But we can't risk you going in there, not when there are still wanted posters floating around with your name on them as well."

For a long moment they stared at each other, before Rachel finally dropped her gaze. "Fine, I'll wait for you. But please, Miles, be careful."

He nodded as he helped her up onto a horse. "You know I will."

Rachel pressed her lips together and shook her head slightly. "No, you won't, but you still always manage to come out in one piece."

She tugged the horse's reins to turn the animal, and Miles stepped back, watching for a moment as she rode away.

"Okay," Miles said, turning to face him. "Let's go get our girl back."

Bass nodded, and they moved off the side of the road, watching the activity at the gate for a while, before picking a target. They followed a lone soldier for about a mile, out of view from the town, before taking him down and stripping him out of his uniform.

Once Miles had changed into it, he grabbed a pair of cuffs and secured them around Bass' wrists.

"How's your hand been holding up these last couple of days?" Miles left the cuffs loose, and Bass shot him a glare.

"Its fine, so the least you can do is make this look realistic."

Miles frowned at him, and snapped the cuffs tight enough to make him wince.

"Happy now?" Miles asked.

"Screw you very much," Bass muttered as they started back toward the main road leading to the town gates.

Miles marched him ahead as they approached the gates. Bass kept his gaze low, but was cataloging men and weapons with every step he took. At the gate, manned by half a dozen soldiers, not a single one said anything to him or Miles, which seemed pretty damn slack when it came to security measures. In a matter of moments, they'd cleared the gate and were heading deeper into town.

"Did that seem too easy to you?" Bass asked over his shoulder.

Miles had a skeptical expression on his face. "Considering our luck? Yeah, that was way too easy."

At the beginning of the next block, Miles stopped to ask directions to the town lockup, and then they continued on, getting closer to the town square.

When the jail came into view, Miles stepped in and grabbed his arm, making it look like he was forcing Bass along.

"After I leave you in the lock up, I'll come back in a few hours and see if I can bluff my way into a prisoner transport or something, to get the two of you out. In the meantime, you locate Charlie, make sure she's okay."

Bass gave a shallow nod, as a Patriot soldier who'd been standing on the front steps of the lock up walked toward them.

"I'll take the prisoner from here," the soldier said, stopping them from going any father.

"If it's all the same to you, I'll see him put away." Miles said with an easy smile, though his dark gaze held a hard edge.

The patriot soldier eyed Miles more closely. "Protocol, you know the rules."

Miles released Bass' arm and gave him a not-so-friendly shove toward the soldier. "The son of a bitch tried to steal my horse, so I was hoping I could slam the lock up door in his face myself."

The soldier didn't look impressed with Miles' story as he grabbed Bass by the shirt collar. "Got to follow procedure, no matter what."

Miles stepped back. "Of course, wouldn't want to mess up all that protocol."

The patriot yanked at his shirt, and Bass shot Miles a look over his shoulder as he followed the soldier up the stairs. Miles sent him a subtle nod, before walking off, quickly disappearing into the crowd.

The soldier led Bass through a series of checkpoints, the security getting tighter the deeper they got into the building. At last, they came to large room split into two big cells, men in one side, women in the other. There were about eight men and five women sitting or standing around, including one Charlotte Matheson, crouched in the far corner and keeping to herself.

Bass swallowed a smile as the soldier led him over to the men's side. He'd found her, now he just had to hope that he and Miles could find a way to get them both out again.

 


	7. Chapter 7

Charlie kept her gaze straight ahead, looking at nothing in particular, but had her attention on the woman pacing the front of the bars. That one was looking for a fight, no doubt about it, and the other three women in the cell seem to realize it as well. They were all keeping quiet and away from her, but considering the woman's agitated state, it wouldn't take much to set her off.

Ever since the Patriots had cuffed Charlie to that wagon and taken her away, leaving Bass lying on the ground, trepidation had been steadily climbing within her. She couldn't get the image of that Patriot soldier kicking Bass in the head out of her mind. She'd gotten her own back, though. The day before, when they'd taken her off the wagon to stop for the night, she'd tried to make a run for it. That same patriot had been in her way, and she'd been only too happy to stab him with the screwdriver she'd found in the back of the supply wagon.

Unfortunately, her escape attempt had been short lived. She'd guessed she wouldn't get far, but she'd had to try.

That beating would have put Bass down, but knowing him, he would have been up and vowing bloody revenge in under an hour. Bass, Miles, and her mom would definitely be coming after her.

When they'd brought her into this Patriot controlled town, the apprehension had wound tighter, because it would be a lot more dangerous for them to get her out of this place, than when she'd been cuffed to a wagon on the open road.

The far doors opened and the guards led in another prisoner. For a moment, Charlie kept her attention on the riled woman, still pacing like a bristling dog. But when the soldier crossed into her line of sight with his captive, her mind went blank with shock. She was on her feet before she'd even realized she intended to stand up.

The soldier shoved Bass into the male side of the cells and then took his cuffs off, before stepping back to lock the door again. Charlie counted to ten, waiting for the guard to leave the room, before hurrying over to the partition between the two sides.

Bass met her there, and in that moment, she absolutely hated that there were only a few thick metal poles separating them.

"Bass, what the hell are you doing here?" she whispered, curling her hands around the bars so she didn't reach for him. It didn't signify that she desperately wanted to hug him, she would have felt the same if it'd been Miles or her mom standing there… okay, maybe not her mom.

"Rescuing you." It was half statement, half question. He reached through the bars and touched her chin, tilting her head up a little. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine, they treated me fairly well, considering."

"That bruise on your jaw tells me otherwise." His blue gaze darkened with violent intensity, and for a moment, he looked like the General Sebastian Monroe she'd first met, the one she'd hated and wanted to kill.

"I tried to escape, and that was what I got in return."

"Sons of bitches," he muttered darkly. His fingers on her chin slid along her jaw, before tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.

She shifted back a little, still not sure how she felt about this new familiarity that had evolved between them. "So what's the plan?"

Bass glanced around, before retuning his attention to her. "We left your mom outside the gates. Miles got his hands on a Patriot uniform; he was the one who brought me in. He's coming back in a few hours to see if he can bluff his way into a prisoner transport for the two of us. In the meantime, we just have to hang tight."

She raised an eyebrow at him. "That's it? And what happens if the prisoner transport angle doesn't work?"

He shrugged one shoulder. "We'll cross that bridge when we come to it. Don't worry, Miles and I have gotten each other out of worse scrapes than this."

Before she could reply, she caught sight of another male prisoner moving closer to Bass.

"Hey! I know you," The guy said, stopping a few steps away. "Holy hell, you're General Sebastian Monroe."

Bass shot her an exasperated glance.

"Shouldn't have shaved after all," he muttered, before turning to face the other prisoner. "I get that a lot, apparently I look like him. Didn't you hear? The Texans executed Monroe with a lethal injection."

The guy shook his head, before pushing up his sleeve up and flashing the _M_ brand on his arm. "I don't know who the Texans killed, but I'd know the president of the Monroe Republic anywhere. The last promotion I got, they let me shake your hand, and you thanked me for my commendable service."

Bass glanced back at her with an unreadable expression, before returning his attention to the man.

"The Monroe Republic fell, and I'm not that man any longer," he said quietly.

From the corner of her eye, Charlie saw they'd attracted the attention of the woman who'd been pacing the bars.

"Did I hear right?" She demanded. "Are you really Sebastian Monroe?"

Bass ' expression hardened as he glanced at the woman, but he didn't reply.

"You son of a bitch!" She screamed, stalking closer. "I lost my entire family when you nuked Atlanta."

Charlie started to move back, but the woman lunged, and grabbed a handful of her hair.

"Is this your bitch, huh Monroe, does this skanky piece of tail belong to you? How about I rearrange her pretty face for you?"

Antagonism burned through Charlie as she reached up to grab the woman's arm. What in the hell was it with people yanking her hair this week? She got a grip on the woman's wrist, and then twisted her body at the same time she twisted the woman's arm. The woman shrieked, releasing her grip on Charlie's hair. It was either that or get her arm broken. Charlie ducked out of the woman's reach and came around swinging, catching her in the side of the face with a fist. The woman stumbled back a step, but the hit only seemed to make her angrier.

"Charlie, come here." Bass ordered her, his voice hard. Usually she would have argued about being able to take care of herself, but as the woman glared at her with a definite crazy-bitch gleam in her eyes, she decided having Sebastian Monroe at her back might not be such a bad idea, even if a row of bars separated them.

She backed up, not taking her eyes off the woman, until her upper back came into contact with the bars. Bass' hands landed on her shoulders, warm, heavy, and tight.

"You got a problem with me, that's fine. But you don't take it out on her, got it?" Bass' low voice vibrated with violent intensity, sending a shiver down her spine.

The woman cut Bass a thwarted glare, but didn't say anything else, before returning to the front of the cell, resuming her pacing.

Charlie blew out a long breath, letting some of the tension she'd been carrying for the last few days go with it.

"I'm sorry about that, Charlie," Bass murmured.

She turned to face him. "Not your fault, Bass."

He didn't look at her, his attention on the pacing woman, haunted shadows darkening his blue gaze. "Actually, it's all my fault."

Before she could reply, he moved away from her, going to lean against the adjacent wall, before sliding down into a crouch, and scrubbing a hand over his hair.

There was nothing she could say in that moment. He had that look, the one she saw on Miles sometimes, the one that said he was counting his sins and realizing he would never be able to atone for them. She walked to the back of the cell, putting her directly opposite him, and dropped to sit. She'd be there, when he was ready to come back to her.

 


	8. Chapter 8

Bass dragged a hand over his face and glanced up as the outer door opened and a handful of soldiers walked in. He wasn't sure how long he'd been sitting there, trying to fight down the memories of his recent past.

At the time, every decision he'd made had seemed like the right one. He'd thought his intentions were pure because they'd been born of a need to protect Miles, just as Miles had been there for him through the worst moments of his life. But then Miles had left, but not before his brother had shoved a gun in his face and shattered what was left of his soul.

After that, things had gotten a little hazy. He'd never had any real direction, running the Monroe Militia had seemed pointless without Miles. So he'd thrown his whole life into his obsession with gaining power, because it had been the only thing he'd had left. In the end, it had been his ultimate downfall. And no matter how far he ran, he'd never be able to escape it.

He slowly pushed to his feet as the guards fanned out in front of the cells, before a senior officer walked forward.

"On your feet, people, its time for processing." The commanding soldier announced.

Bass shot a quick look at Charlie, who was hanging back while the other four women went forward. The ex-militia soldier who had recognized him stood nearby, and Bass grabbed his attention.

"What's going on, what do they mean by processing?" He asked in a low voice.

"Every seventy-two hours, they empty out the cells to stop over crowding. Processing is just that; depending on their crime, some prisoners get sent to a firing squad, some get farmed out to labor camps, some get taken away for interrogation and then end up back in here until the next round of processing," the soldier answered, though he didn't look back at Bass as he talked.

"How do you know all that?" Bass asked as the cell door opened and the men started shuffling forward, pausing at the front to have their wrists flex-cuffed.

"I was one of them. A Patriot. They sent my brother to one of those reconditioning camps, and when he came home, he wasn't exactly my brother any longer. Tell you the truth, he scared the hell out of me. So when they told me I'd be leaving with the next intake, I ran. Obviously I didn't get very far."

Okay, none of that sounded good, and it put a serious hitch in his plan to wait for Miles to return.

"What will happen to you?" he asked the soldier as they got closer to the front.

"They'll either send me off to the camp with an armed escort to make sure I don't try to make a run for it again, or they'll just have me executed. Either way, I'm screwed."

"What's your name?"

This time, the guy did glance back at him. "Chris Sullivan."

"Well, Sullivan, if you follow my lead and do what I tell you, I can give you another chance at escaping."

Sullivan nodded, but didn't reply as they reached where the Patriot guards were waiting to cuff them. He wasn't helping the guy out of the kindness of his heart. The fact was, the more of these people who ran, and the more chaos that created, the better his chances of slipping off with Charlie were.

Bass cast a critical glance over the guards, cataloging weapons and looking for any holes in their security. As he joined the other waiting prisoners, surrounded by the half dozen guards, Bass went to stand next to Charlie. She shot him a quick look and a small smile.

"We can't wait for Miles, if we go through this processing, we'll probably get split up. If I see an opening, I'm going to take it, so be ready," he said in a low voice.

She gave a single, barely perceptible nod as the guards herded them from the room. They were led back through several check points, to a holding area of sorts. As the first prisoner got led off for processing, Bass realized it was now or never.

He shifted sideways and bumped himself into the angry woman from earlier.

"Hey, keep your hands to yourself, you crazy bitch!" He yelled to gain the attention of the guards.

Just as he'd hoped, the woman turned on him with murder in her gaze.

He could have taken her down in half a second flat, but let her beat on him, getting in a few half-hearted shoves, until the guards finally got their asses over to pull them apart.

Bass let himself get pulled back, and while the soldier holding him was distracted, slipped the guy's knife out of its sheath. The guard shoved him to one side of the crowd, while another pulled the woman to the opposite side, keeping them well apart.

Once everything had settled down, he caught Charlie's eye and nodded her over. As she stopped next to him, he flashed the knife, and she immediately held her hands up so he could slice the cuffs.

She took the blade from him, before returning the gesture. Sullivan appeared at his side, and after Bass sent Charlie a quick nod, she cut his wrists free too.

One of the women nearby saw what they were doing, and shifted closer, holding out her own wrists. Charlie cut her cuffs too, and then freed two others, before Bass snatched the knife off her.

"That's enough, or they'll notice something is up."

She glanced at the prisoners who hadn't been lucky enough to get freed, but nodded. Bass altered his grip on the knife and stalked forward a few steps through the crowd. He paused, waiting for the right moment. The double doors opened, and that was all he needed.

Bass rushed the soldier who was just stepping into the room, dropping his body right in the doorway to stop the doors from swinging shut again. After that, chaos erupted. The prisoners attacked, both the ones who were still cuffed and the ones who'd been freed, going for the guards and creating the confusion he'd been hoping for. As Patriots dropped, Bass armed himself with more and more weapons, Charlie mirroring his movements.

He grabbed her arm, and motioned to Sullivan, as some of the other prisoners struggled against the few soldiers left standing.

"Let's go, before they send reinforcements."

Charlie nodded, her grip steady on the gun she'd acquired from one of the soldiers. They stepped over the body of the first soldier he'd taken down, and headed down the long hallway. A few of the other prisoners followed them, making a decent sized group, as they blasted their way through the last couple of security checkpoints, before making it to the street. Once outside, the group split off in all different directions.

Sullivan followed him and Charlie as they ran a block, before ducking down an alleyway. Bass paused, concealing what weapons he could and discarding the rest. Walking around town armed to the teeth was just asking for attention.

"Thanks for helping me out of there." Sullivan said, holding out his hand.

Bass returned the handshake. "No problem, but I didn't do it for you."

Sullivan shot a considering glance at Charlie, before sending Bass a quick salute. "Well, no offense General Monroe, but I think my chances of getting out of this town in one piece will be better without you."

Bass nodded, no use getting offended when it was more than likely true.

"Good luck, Sullivan."

"Same to you, General." Sullivan headed back down the alleyway at a jog, disappearing out into the street a moment later.

"Now what?" Charlie asked, setting down the rifle she'd been carrying.

"Now, we're going to find Miles, and hopefully walk out of this town right under those bastard Patriot's noses."

 


End file.
